Of Lions, Dragons and Tibault
by justcallmesmitty
Summary: Mary finds Francis in the nursery with his brothers, where Charles insists on a story before bedtime. Written for Fanforum's Francis/Mary thread's daily hiatus challenge prompt (No. 3). One-shot, Complete. Fluffy. Stands on its own, but a sequel of sorts to "In Pursuit of Marbles".


I hear the clack of marbles before I reach the door and slowly push it aside. Certain enough, the nursery floor is littered with the Valois men – little Henry's right arm poised to strike, his eyes reflect a firm determination to capture at least one of Charles' precious glass orbs; Charles smug in what he feels will be yet another victory; and Francis sprawled on his side, his hands at the ready to deflect any of the game that might come his way. I can't help but smile as my eyes sweep over them.

Henry releases the marble and it flies into another, which rolls to my feet. The three of them look up, a little ashamed at not having heard me enter the room and a little sheepish at having been caught playing games when they ought to have been settling themselves for sleep.

Francis rises quickly to his feet and rushes to my side, helping me over to a seat near the fire. The boys clamber closely behind, the game already forgotten. Henry climbs up next to me on the couch while Charles settles onto the floor at the foot of the chair where Francis has seated himself. A tiny hand reaches tentatively to touch my rounded belly. The littlest Valois has no memory of what it looks like for a woman to grow with child, and his fascination eagerly twinkles in his eyes as he rests his fingertips next to mine.

"Mary, when will the baby come?" His question spills forth and I shift my fingers to cover his, my gaze meeting his upturned face.

"Soon, Henry." A small chuckle escapes my lips. "Very soon."

I ruffle the small boy's hair with my free hand and Charles demands a story before their nurse arrives to retrieve them and put them into their beds.

"A good one, too," he insists.

"Well then," starts Francis. I meet his eyes, raising my brow in curiosity – usually I find myself the bearer of tales both tall and small. My back relaxes into the seat and Henry nestles in beside me as the oldest brother embarks on his story.

"In a land far away named Forth, where the hills roll bright and green and the water collects in glassy lakes throughout those hills and where fairies play games in the trees, there once lived a beautiful princess named Arabella."

I notice Charles sit up a little straighter, quirking his ear toward Francis' voice. Francis takes note as well, forging ahead.

"Arabella loved to run and play, and would climb as high as she could in the trees to try and catch the fairies. Her parents, the King and Queen of Forth, were kind rulers who tried to do right by their people. When the princess was still very young, her father heard of a terrible lion causing trouble in a nearby village. The king left with his men to kill the lion and restore peace, but he returned home badly wounded from the hunt and died only a few days later."

Henry gasps beside me, burrowing deeper into the crook of my arm in fear of this lion who could cause the death of kings. Charles appears to be a bit skeptical as to where this unfamiliar legend will lead, but he hasn't interrupted yet, so I take that as a good sign of his devoted attention.

"The princess and the Queen felt very lonely without the King, for they had loved him very much. One day, word came by messenger that more lions prowled in the lowlands! The Queen feared Arabella would be eaten as she explored the hills and climbed trees, so the Queen arranged to send her to a land where she might be safe for many years and where there were no lions to be found. Arabella cried and cried, not wanting to leave her mother alone, but it didn't help. She soon found herself in a kingdom named Lis where everyone spoke in words she could not understand and wore dresses in which they could not run or climb trees."

"She couldn't climb trees?" Charles asks, incredulous at the audacity of skirts to deprive a young girl from one of his favorite joys.

"No." Francis shakes his head, a bemused smile breaking on his lips. He darts a quick glance at me, taking note of the sheen gliding over my eyes. "No, she couldn't."

He waits a moment to see if Charles has another question before proceeding.

"Not everything was dull and tiresome, however. In the castle where she lived, there also lived a prince named Tibault, who was the son of the King and Queen of Lis. They became fast friends and learned how to climb trees in spite of Arabella's skirts. In Arabella's ninth year, a passing knight told of a lion he had seen close to the Court at Lis. Fearing for Arabella's life, the King and Queen decided it would be best to hide her in the caves far from the castle. And, so, Arabella and Tibault parted – Arabella again crying and crying, clinging to her friend, until her nurse picked her up and placed her in the waiting carriage."

I hear a whimper next to me and see Henry's face streaked with tears. My fingers wipe them from his cheeks as I turn to look at my husband. "Francis, are you sure you-" I begin to ask hesitantly, but he cuts me off with the gentle lift of his finger and a pause.

"Yes, I'm sure," he insists calmly before addressing his littlest brother. "Henry, would you like me to continue?"

The question is met by the firm set of Henry's jaw and the fierce nod of his head. In spite of his fear of the lion, he wants to hear the rest of the story.

"It would be many years before they saw one another again, but they never forgot one another. Arabella grew more beautiful with each day's light. Her hair became a raven and windy braid, her eyes twinkled like the echos of the caves, and her heart opened and loved every person she met. Meanwhile, Tibault grew tall and strong, though he walked a little funny because he was always in a hurry to get where he was going. One day, his parents told him that as soon as Arabella returned, they were to be married. Tibault found himself excited to see Arabella, but he didn't know what he thought of the news that she was to be his wife."

Charles' rapt gaze comes to rest on the flames in the hearth. Even in his ninth year, I wonder if he is thinking of Madeleine. Francis' voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I listen to him unveil his myth – the threads of which are both familiar and unfamiliar.

"Arabella remained safely hidden in the caves until her fifteenth year, when a lion came too close to her hiding spot. Her caretakers recognized that not even the caves were safe and that the time had come for her to return to the Court at Lis. The King and Queen threw a great banquet when she arrived, and people came from all over Lis to see the princess."

Both boys listen attentively, the room quiet save for Francis' words.

"But before Tibault could make up his mind about marrying Arabella, other men came to win her hand, for word of her beauty had spread quickly throughout the land. They jousted and arched and swung javelins for months until a great dragon flew in from the North, scaly and clever and full of fiery flames. All of Arabella's suitors cowered in fear of the beast, leaving one by one for their homes. Seeing that Arabella was afraid, Tibault picked up his sword, fought the dragon, and thrust his sword through the dragon's heart. The dragon fell dead at his feet. Tibault realized that he loved Arabella and discovered that she loved him, too. They wanted nothing more than to love one another for the rest of their lives and to stay away from dangerous dragons."

A satisfied sigh releases from Henry's lips. He has waited eagerly for Tibault and Arabella to be happy. And yet, there remains more story to be told. I'm sure of it.

"Sometimes, however," Francis resumes, scanning the room and assessing his brothers' emotions. "Sometimes, fate is not so kind. The night before their wedding, Arabella dreamed of a new lion arriving in Lis – one who would kill Tibault. She didn't know what to do, so she ran away into the black of the night."

Apparently, Francis has decided to play once more on Charles' sense of adventure at the expense of Henry's sensitive heart. I feel Henry's fingers grip more tightly onto mine, his way of asking if Tibault will ever find Arabella.

"For weeks, Tibault and his parents searched every village and hillside in Lis, but no trace of the princess could be found, so Tibault and his mother wrote to Forth, hoping Arabella's mother might know where she had gone. The darkness which settled upon the kingdom grew darker with each day, but still no word arrived from Forth or from Arabella. Tibault grew fearful that he might never see Arabella again."

"Where is she, Francis? Where is she?" Henry cries out next to me, quietly sobbing out his words. I do my best to soothe his squirming, but it is not an easy task – particularly as the babe within me also decides to move in this very moment. Both boys are noticeably tired from the day and, while I appreciate his creativity, I hope Francis will skip over certain lengthy pieces of this story for their sake.

"One day, a carriage drove up to the castle and a guard stepped out, pulling a girl behind him. It was Arabella! She had been hiding in the caves. Tibault rejoiced as he saw her emerge from behind the guard and he raced to meet her, picking her up and spinning her around and around in his joy. The King and Queen of Lis laughed at the sight. Arabella shared her dream with Tibault and he told her not to fear the lions. He had slain a dragon – why should he fear a lion?"

"That's true!" comes Charles' quick response. "A dragon is much bigger than a lion – and it breathes fire."

Francis laughs softly before concluding his tale.

"A week later, Tibault and Arabella were married in front of people from near and from far, from Lis and from Forth. Everyone feasted and danced and celebrated, and Tibault and Arabella lived and ruled together happily for the rest of their days."

I feel Henry sigh contentedly against me, his eyes finally letting themselves droop toward slumber.

"That was a good story, Francis," he mumbles just loud enough to hear, his voice trailing off at the end.

"I want to be just like Tibault," affirms Charles. What he doesn't realize is that he undoubtedly will.

"Well I do hope you never have to fight a dragon," I tell him. "But I'm certain you will be strong and brave, just like Tibault. I spy your nurse in the doorway. It is time for you little ones to sleep."

Francis nudges Charles to rise from the floor and comes over to gather Henry into his arms, who has quickly become limp and is breathing heavily against me. The boys leave with the nurse and Francis returns to collect me.

"That was some story," I say as he wraps his arm behind me to help me lift away from the couch. "I agree with Charles. Tibault was very brave."

He casts aside my teasing, guiding me toward the door and into the corridor. We do not have to walk far, having relocated to the same wing in anticipation of the weeks to come.

"Arabella was very beautiful. One must be brave to win a heart like hers." He smiles, helping me move my cumbersome frame through our door and toward our bed. I take a seat on the tick, the child within active again with my movements.

"Well, Tybalt walked funny," I chide as he removes his boots. The truth is that I love that walk, and he knows it, which is why he laughs loudly at my comment.

"Yes, well, Arabella cried a lot."

I feign offense at his insinuation before joining him briefly in his laughter. My thoughts then turn pensive, reflecting on all that he had skipped over in the story's telling.

"I wish it had been that simple, though – just lions and a dragon to be battled with and defeated." A pang of regret strikes at my heart and I sense myself saddening.

Francis casts aside his tunic and returns to me, attempting to free me from my dress. Lifting it over my head, he sets it aside and tugs at my chin with his fingers – drawing my eyes to his serious expression.

"Our story is the best story, Mary. I want them to know it, even if they won't understand what really happened until they are older and I am gone. It is my favorite story."

A smile tugs at his mouth as he bends down to kiss my brow and settle me beneath the bedcovers. He blows out the candle at his bedside and climbs in to join me, resting one hand at my middle where Henry's had been.

"It is my favorite, too," I whisper into the darkness. Or at least I think I whisper it aloud. My mind has already slipped toward sleep – where I am greeted by wisps of a handsome golden prince with clear eyes and a good heart who fights dragons and lions and climbs trees with the girl he loves.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: This was written for our daily F/M thread challenge, which is intended to keep us busy for the remainder of the hiatus. We get 24 hours after the prompt is released to write something. Today's prompt is "fairy tales." This is a sequel of sorts to "In Pursuit of Marbles," which I wrote for the first challenge prompt.

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim of ownership on "Reign" or its characters - that belongs to the CW, CBS and Laurie McCarthy. I just like the chance to play!


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